The Biker's Fate Chapter 381

"Everything looks good," I said, as I met Grace in the kitchen.

"I could have told you that," she retorted with a cheeky smile. "Merrick's pretty on top of my safety. Cop dad… it's ingrained."

"Right." I'd forgotten their dad was a fuckin' cop. He'd never given the club any issues, but still, I wasn't a fan. "I'm gonna head out. You good?"

She hesitated, and my heart went out to her. "Yep."

"Why are you shakin', then?"

She crossed her arms. "Cold."

I frowned and made a split-second decision to hang around for a while.

"You have a problem if I stayed a bit?" I asked, shrugging out of my jacket.

"Not at all," she said, her eyes wide with relief. "Do you want a beer?"

I sat at the kitchen island and nodded. "Sure, babe, that'd be great."

Grace grabbed a beer from the fridge and handed it to me. I twisted the top off and took a swig. It was shit, but I wasn't gonna insult her, so I set it on the counter and watched her pour a glass of wine.

"Do you work for Hatch full time?" she asked.

"Pretty much," I said. "I've worked for him since I was a teenager. He paid for my education."

"Seriously?"

"Yep. He's the reason I patched into the Dogs."

She bit her lip and I had to look away, wanting to tug it from her teeth… with mine. "He's amazing."

I chuckled. "He's a good guy, yeah."

"Poppy's so lucky."

"What's your dad like?"

"I don't really want to talk about him," she said, dropping her head again.

"Fair enough." I didn't like that she hid from me, but I let her retreat… for the moment.

"Did you have to… ah, do what Merrick had to do?"

I nodded. "Yep."

"Who did you fight?"

"Hatch."

Her eyes widened. "Ohmigod, really?"

I smiled. "Yep."

"Who won?"

I chuckled. "He did. Hands down."

"How old were you?"

"Nineteen."

"Wow," she whispered as she leaned across the island. "How did you know I was freaking?"

"Baby, you were ghost white and I couldn't get you to move. Since I know what happened… you know, back then… I figured something had triggered you."

She blushed, dropping her head again. "I'm sorry you had to see that."

"Grace. Look at me."

It took her a minute, but she finally met my eyes, her face still red.

"Nothing that happened tonight… or ten years ago… is your fault. It's also not your fault that fuckin' PTSD is still rearin' its head ten years later."

"Ten years is a long time, Flea."

"I hear ya, Grace, but it doesn't mean it's all-healing."

She dropped her head again. "It should be some-healing, though, don't you think?"

"Nope," I said, and tapped the counter. "Look at me, Grace."

She did.

"You endured something no one should have to. It's gonna take you as long as it's gonna take you to function through it. No one's judging you, you get that, right?"

She sighed. "Except my dad."

I forced myself not to react. She was sharin' and I wanted to keep her talkin'. "Your dad thinks… what?"

"That I should be over all of this." She busied herself in the kitchen and I scrubbed a hand over my face.

"He's wrong." I climbed off the stool and walked around the island. "Grace?"

"Hm?" She faced me and let out a quiet squeak. "Oh!"

I chuckled. "Sorry."

She stared up at me. "I didn't even hear you move."

I grinned. "It's a skill."

"Apparently."

"Did you hear me?"

She licked her lips. "Yes."

"Do you believe me?"

"I'd like to, but…" She looked away again.

I squeezed her arm gently. "Eyes."

Her baby blues flew to me. I could see her warring with her emotions, but I continued to hold her arm as she stared up at me. "Need you to hear me on this, Grace. I get it's easier said than done, but none of this is on you."

"What makes you so smart?"

I squeezed her arm again, wanting to do more, but giving her space. "Got a few years on you, Grace."

"More than a few, old man," she retorted.

I chuckled. She wasn't wrong.

"Do you know what happened tonight?" I asked.

I had to give it to her, she kept her eyes on me when she nodded. "Ashley…"

"Had her new fuckin' gun," I finished. Of course. That made all the sense in the world. Grace's mother had shot herself in the head. The sight of a woman who resembled her flashing one would have triggered a shit ton of emotion.

"Yes," she whispered.

I stroked her cheek, but before I could say anything, I heard the key in the door, so I released her and moved back to the island. Finch walked in and stalled. He looked wrecked, but stood taller and stared me down. "Flea."

"Hey, brother."

"You okay, Grace?" he asked.

"Yep. Flea was just keeping me company for a bit."

"And now I'm gonna go," I said, and grabbed my jacket.

I shrugged it on as Grace made her way to me and led me to the door. Finch watched… he didn't want anyone to know he was watching, but I could tell… as I stepped into the hallway.

"Thanks for everything," Grace said, quietly.

"No problem, babe." I smiled. "I'll see you around."

She nodded and closed the door, and I headed down to my bike.